


Heroes

by WaxAgent



Series: Lovesong [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Established Relationship, F/M, Gay Sex, Let's ship characters and not actors, M/M, NO SEX BETWEEN MINORS, Richie is smart, Rimming, Some angst, bill is so damn wise, eddie is sort of a bamf, mild homophobia, stupid boys can be fucking stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaxAgent/pseuds/WaxAgent
Summary: Eddie resented being closeted, but he felt the need for it too; there was safety there, a perpetual assurance that nobody could hurt them.Richie disagreed.(In preparing to head off to college, Eddie makes hard choices, meets new faces, and remembers an old one he'd long forgotten).





	1. Don't Let It Bring You Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hi! For those of you curious folks that are wondering if a crossover is for you, let me be the first to let you know that the crossover portion of this is pretty limited. For the sake of the story, Mike Wheeler is Richie's cousin and Eleven has powers. That's about all you need. :) 
> 
> xo  
> waxagent
> 
> Also this story is a part two to "Head Over Heels". It'll make more sense if you read that one first.

It had been exactly seventy days since Eddie and Richie first kissed, but Eddie wasn’t counting. He just knew. It was less about “counting” and more about keeping track, alright? He knew it was seventy days like he knew lots of other things about Richie. His top left canine was crooked. He snored, sometimes. He had a million different laughs; high pitched, silent, gut deep and this one crazy, wicked cackle that he reserved for when somebody was ‘getting off a good one’. He squinted when he read, and he drummed his fingers when he was thinking. He could play the guitar, and sing, and boy, could he _kiss_.

One of the casualties of being in love, Eddie figured, was the perpetually growing space Richie occupied in his brain. 

 _Seventy days_.

They still weren’t out to their friends. They weren’t out to anybody. They rarely held hands in public and they never kissed or touched in school. In fact, their weekly liasons aside, they touched each other less and less than they did before Richie’s birthday. There was a clear line that hung between them and the rest of the world, unspoken but constantly enforced, and Eddie was fine with it. It was safe. The world was already unkind to people that were like Eddie Kaspbrak, small and asthmatic and sarcastic, so why should he add ‘flamingly gay and obsessed with his best friend’s dick’ to the stack?

After all, it was a different story in their bedrooms. Once they were locked away, Richie could never keep his hands off of Eddie, and Eddie blossomed under his constant attention, soaking him up like sunlight. Richie was all too eager to touch every single part that the brunette made available to him, even if Eddie had to get strict sometime about the ‘no marks’ rule.

It was one such sunny afternoon that found them in Eddie’s room, an arrangement that they both preferred for various reasons. Eddie was reading his history homework on the floor, cross-legged, while Richie was lying on the bed, mindlessly strumming his guitar and singing little snatches of one song, then another. He stopped, lips puckered, and fine-tuned the instrument. He hummed, matched his key, and hummed again. Eddie paused, setting his book down in his lap, and tilted his head back to look at the taller man. Richie’s eyes were closed, his face calm.

“ _Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner_ ,” Richie sang. His fingers worked over the strings gracefully. “ _Sometimes I feel like my only friend is the city I live in, the City of Angels…_ ” He trailed off, blinking his eyes open, and looked at Eddie. “You’re burning a hole in my head. Am I bugging you?”

“No,” Eddie said, honestly. “I love your voice. You’ve gotten a ton better.”

“I practice,” Richie grinned bashfully, a delighted blush on his pale cheeks. “You think it sounds good, huh?” He got up, kneeling, and played a little more. “ _I don’t ever wanna feel like I did that day, take me to the place I love; take me all the way_.”

Eddie grinned, leaning up on the edge of the bed. He watched Richie play through the rest of the song, heart pumping steady and quick, enamored.

Richie paused at the end, his long fingers hovering. “Yeah? You like?”

“I said I love,” Eddie climbed up onto the mattress, book in hand. “No! Don’t stop, keep playing.”

“You sure it’s not bugging you?”

“It’s way less distracting than your talking.”

Richie laughed. “Alright. Any requests?”

“Dealer’s choice,” Eddie smiled. He sat against the wall and re-opened his book as Richie started playing- something by The Smiths this time- and was quickly lost in his reading.

It was calm for a few minutes. Richie played The Smiths, The Cure, and a rocking cover of Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love” that made Eddie smile. When he hit the end of his mini-set, he gently put down his guitar and wrapped both arms around Eddie, pressing his lips to the smaller man’s.

“Mmm, _Richie_ ,” Eddie mumbled, leaning up into the other man’s affections. “I’m doing homework.”

“Do it tomorrow, it’s Friday.” Richie smirked. He focused on distracting Eddie, running his hands up over Eddie’s chest and gripping, lips teasing over the smaller man’s. “You’ve been working so hard, let me give my favorite groupie a much needed break.”

“Favorite, huh?”

“My only groupie,” Richie amended, bowing his head. He scooted his long legs behind him and slowly pushed Eddie back, planting kisses along his abdomen.

“I have four more chapters to read,” Eddie hummed, gently pushing Richie’s curly head aside with one hand. “And if you don’t let me read them in peace--“

“Are you gonna punish me?” Richie grinned. He pulled Eddie’s shirt up with his teeth, nuzzling into the bare skin above his waistband. Eddie couldn’t help but shiver. “Are you gonna spank your bad homework boy?”

“You’re totally insufferable,” Eddie groaned.

“And you’re reading about suffrage, which is boring,” Richie beamed. He licked Eddie’s belly button. “Maybe I’ll have to punish my boring boy instead, hm?”

“Oh my God, just leave.”

“Eddie!”

“You know my routine. It’s Friday, I have to do my homework. Then I have all day on Saturday AND Sunday and I don’t have to stress. And I can sleep in an extra thirty minutes on Monday. It’s how I operate, Rich. It’s the spice of life.”

“You are so fucking cute.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I just want to lick you up and swallow you whole,” Richie grinned lasciviously, running his long hand up the flat planes of Eddie’s stomach. Richie often painted his nails before chewing them down to the quick, and today is no exception; they were black, and chipped all over. “Cute, cute, cute!”

“You aren’t listening to me,” Eddie bemoaned, dropping the book over his face. “You’re hopeless.”

“Maybe I just want to get a little taste before I go, what’s so wrong with that?” Richie pouted.

“Wait, you’re not staying over?”

Richie shook his head, ebony curls bouncing. “No, remember? Cousin’s coming into town to look at some college. I have to entertain. I’m very becoming to guests and people that don’t take me for granted, you know.” Eddie sighed. He reached up and tugged Richie in, kissing him.

“I’m sorry, Rich,” Eddie whispered. “I forgot. With finals in less than a month, I’m stressed. My memory’s shot,” Eddie kissed Richie again and felt the other man slowly relax against him. “Forgive me?”

“I’m just playdoh in your tiny hands,” Richie grumbled, eyes half lidded.

“Hey, I got accepted to U-Maine,” Eddie remembered with a smile. “I got the letter two days ago.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“That puts me at five for five, still. For acceptances.”

Richie kissed him. “Proud of you, baby.”

“Still coming out with me tonight? I wanna see something at the Aladdin.”

“Yeah, might have my nerdy ass cousin in tow. You’ll like him,” Richie’s eyes dropped closed and he kissed Eddie soundly. Eddie sighed, bringing both hands up to tangle in Richie’s unruly hair. “Don’t tease me, Eds.” Richie brought his arms up around Eddie, pulling him closer as their kisses deepen. “Mm, I should go.”

“You don’t have any time?”

“Not enough to give you the whole works,” Richie grinned. “Just think of how hot you’ll be for it by tomorrow. Totally primed for a pump.” He bucked his hips down and Eddie squeaked. “Quarry at seven?”

“Quarry at seven,” Eddie climbed out of Richie’s lap. “Want me to walk you out?”

“No,” Richie said. He stood and picked up his backpack, guitar slung over his back. “Your mom is downstairs, remember?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Oh.”

“You always get so jealous when I kiss her goodbye,” Richie smirked and blew Eddie a kiss. He left, closing the door behind him gently, and Eddie smiled.

* * *

Eddie arrived at the quarry at a quarter to seven, setting his bike down gently on the grass. Two bikes were already there; Richie’s shitty purple one and one that was new to him, red and white. He meanders out to the ledge and seaw Richie spitting over the edge of the quarry with another person beside him. The person looked startlingly familiar.

“Richie,” Eddie waved and Richie turned to him, his face lighting like the sun behind a passing cloud.

“Spaghetti Man,” Richie crowed. He leapt up, bounding over to Eddie and grabbing him in a hug.

“You do NOT get a hug after calling me Spaghetti Man, unreal,” Eddie grunted. He pushed himself out of Richie’s embrace and Richie pouted, swinging his arms. “You’re Richie’s cousin?” He smiled and walked towards the stranger. “I’m Eddie Kaspbrak. Please do not make up a nickname for me.”

“I’m Mike,” Richie’s cousin extended his hand and Eddie shook it. The kid before him could be Richie’s twin if he were about four inches taller. His hair was shorter and laid flat against the crown of his head, and his face has a soft kindness to it that Richie’s angles didn’t betray. His eyes were darker than Richie’s and very kind. “Mike Wheeler. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eddie said. “Where are you from?”

“Indiana, but my mom thought it would be a good idea for me to look at schools near family. College, you know. ”

Richie snorted. “Yeah, because Aunt Mags and Uncle Went would be a huge help if you ever needed a hand.”

Mike glared. “They like me just fine.”

“They don’t like anybody,” Richie spat over the side of the quarry. Eddie frowned. Richie was almost never tense. It was unnerving.

“Stop it,” Mike chided. “Stop trying to hit her. You’re gonna regret it.”

Eddie blinked. “Hit who?”

“I’m not trying to hit her,” Richie spit again. “I’m just trying to get as close to get as I can without--“ he yelped, suddenly, flying backwards and landing on his ass. His face was wet and bemused. He sputtered, wiping at his cheeks and lips. He looked at Mike, eyes impossibly wide behind his glasses.

Mike laughed, grinning. “I fucking told you you’d regret it, dipshit.”

“Wait,” Richie crawled to the edge of the quarry with Eddie right behind him. They looked down and saw a girl on a low rock by the basin of the quarry. Her hair was short and curly and her bare feet dangled into the water. She looked back up at them, impassive. “What?” Richie whirled around, gaping. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

“Her name is El,” Mike said. Eddie turned around to see that Mike was still smiling, something casually happy in the loose cross of his arms. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Richie stood, still wiping at his face. “Since when?”

“Since I was twelve, ass.”

“Mikey’s got major game, surprising everybody” Richie whistled, leaning back over the edge of the quarry. He waved his hand over his head. “Hey,” he shouts. “I’m Richie Tozier! A handsome alternative option to your boyfriend!”

El stared up at him for a second from down below. She flipped him off.

“Aw,” Richie smiled, rocking back on his heels. “She seems nice.”

“What was that?” Eddie whispered. He looked at Mike, who was looking fondly over the edge of the cliff. “How did she do that? That’s Richie’s spit all over his own face.”

“This is the first time you’ve ever been so afraid of my spit, Eds-“

“Oh my God,” Eddie rubbed his face in his hands. “I’m asking serious questions, Richie, _shut up_.”

“El can do things--“

“Mmm, I bet she can.”

“Shut UP Richie,” Mike and Eddie snapped in unison. They looked at each other.

“Anyway,” Mike continued. “She can make things happen. Small things and big things, it’s really hard to explain. Throwing your loogie back at you, Rich, that’s a small thing.”

“That was hardly a loogie,” Richie scoffed. “She should see me when I’m trying.” Richie called. Eddie glanced up; the girl was strolling out of the bushes concealing the path down to the quarry, brushing off her shirt. She was barefoot.

“You should see me when I’m trying,” Richie stood. Upright, he towered over the newcomer, El, who couldn’t possibly have been a hair over five feet. Eddie felt like a giant for the first time in his life.

“Richie Tozier,” Richie said, extending his hand. El looked at him. The bridge of her nose was delicately wrinkled.

“Mike,” she said, looking back and forth between Richie and his cousin. “…not Mike,” she said firmly, her eyes landing on Richie.

Richie looked affronted. “Around these parts, we just call him ‘Richie #2’.”

El looked up at him and Richie shrank back a little. “U-uh,” he stuttered, looking back at Eddie. He straightened his glasses, dropped them in the dirt, and scrambled to pick them up. “That’s Eddie, over there. My reluctant love interest.”

Eddie sighed, cheeks heating. “Hi,” he said, and El’s eyes snapped to him. He feels then what Richie must have felt; a deep pulling, gentle but firm, somewhere behind the cage of his ribs. El’s eyes were honey brown but wary, vaguely threatened and Eddie felt thin looking into them, like he might blow away. It was like breathing down pure electricity, and he was groping into his pocket for his inhaler before he even decided to do it consciously.

“El,” Mike’s voice was soft behind him. “It’s okay. It’s my cousin, I was telling you about him. Remember?”

El nodded. She looked up at Richie again and Eddie gasped as her attention moved off of him. He pressed his inhaler into his mouth and took three gulps, rapid fire.

“Cousin,” El repeated, “the mouth-breather.”

Mike laughed and made a beeline over to his girlfriend. Richie had the grace to look doubly offended.

* * * 

Richie badgered them all into seeing “The Crow” and Eddie hated it instantly. It was a good movie, sure, but he loathed the brutality. He looked at Richie’s face over and over again during the run of the film, dimly lit, the movie reflected in the lenses of his glasses. He wished that he were brave enough to reach over and take his hand.

He glanced around. The theater was almost full of shadowy figures and nobody was paying attention to their little quartet, nestled into the back left of the space. Mike was holding El’s hand lightly and Eddie felt a pop of sick green envy. How easy it must be to be able to just be affectionate like that in public, surrounded by strangers, to just be normal. He looked back to see that Richie had turned his attention to him, brow quirked.

“You okay?” Richie whispered into his ear. His nose nudged Eddie’s temple. “You’re fidgeting.”

“Asthma,” Eddie lied. “The inhaler I took earlier, it makes me jittery.”

“Mm,” Richie nodded, but he looked unconvinced. He slid his hand over to Eddie’s thigh and gave him a quick squeeze before putting his arm back on the rest between  
them. Eddie felt overcome.

He leaned up and into Richie’s space. “Let me spend the night at your place,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to Richie’s jawline. He felt the muscle there tic and saw Richie grin; he leaned in to steal a kiss but Eddie backed away, shaking his head.

“Not here,” he said. Richie’s grin faltered. He leaned back into his seat, long fingers drumming onto the armrest, and didn’t move for the rest of the movie.

* * *

When Eddie exits the bathroom after the show Richie wasn’t waiting for him, but Mike was. He waved and Eddie waved back.

“Richie went outside to smoke,” Mike explained. “And El wanted popcorn for the road.” Sure enough, El was halfway up through the concessions line, looking overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choices eight feet in front of her.

“Oh,” Eddie said. “Okay.”

Mike rocked back on his heels for a minute. “I don’t mind Maine,” he said suddenly. “I’m excited to check out the school on Monday. University of Maine at Castle Rock. They have a great physics program.”

“Physics,” Eddie grinned. “You’re smarter than your cousin.”

Mike smiled bashfully and shook his head. “I’m just a nerd and I like the stuff most people don’t. Are you going to school?”

“Yeah, I’d like to. I have a college fund, so I might as well.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie admitted honestly. “I don’t have any idea. I’ve applied to five schools and got accepted at all of them, all undeclared. U-Maine is one. Maybe we’ll have class together if I go there.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Mike seemed pleased. “We could be roommates.”

“I live close enough to commute, I think I’d live at home,” Eddie said. “Room with Richie.”

Mike tilted his head. “What?”

“Well I doubt that he’d stay at home. He’ll dorm, probably, or get an apartment. Great roomie potential. Except, you know, then you’re sharing a room with Richie.”

“Well, I would,” Mike said. “I can probably live with anybody. But he told me he got accepted to UCLA.”

“UCLA?” Eddie frowns. “That’s in California.”

“Yeah, and a few other west coast schools too,” Mike nodded. “He got a full scholarship to their music production program. He said he’s been busting his ass.”

“Wow,” Eddie felt too hot suddenly. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, frowning. “Hey, I’m gonna…” his throat stuck and he couldn’t quite finish his sentence. He nodded for a second before bolting for the front entrance, leaving Mike behind. “I’ll meet you outside.”

He found Richie leaning against the side of the Aladdin. He was smoking by himself, and Eddie spotted a second glowing cigarette butt beside Richie’s ratty left shoe, freshly smoked.

“Eddie, baby,” Richie grinned, taking a drag. “I found the most romantic spot in the whole theater for us. Away from every prying eye.”

“Don’t call me baby,” Eddie snapped. He grabbed Richie’s arm and tugged him deeper into the alleyway. “What the _fuck_ , Richie?”

“What the fuck indeed?” Richie staggered after Eddie, tossing his cigarette against the wall. “I’m sorry? What did I do? I don’t even know what I did.”

“California,” Eddie hissed. “You’re- college. _California_ , Richie?”

Realization dawned on Richie’s face. His lips tightened, and something shuttered off behind his eyes. “I only applied,” he said quietly. “I didn’t accept their offer.”

“You didn’t tell me!” Eddie threw his arms up, running both hands through his hair. “Christ Richie, I didn’t even know you wanted to go away!”

“I don’t need to tell you where I apply to go to college, Eddie, and I haven’t kept any secrets about how far away I want to get from this bumfuck town.”

“I told you! I told you everything--“

“U-Maine. Derry Community. Bangor Community. U-Mass,” Richie sucked his teeth. “And something in Connecticut. I’m not stupid, I listen when you talk.”

Eddie flushed. “I didn’t say you were stupid--“

“And for your information, before you keep attacking me,” Richie said, his voice growing louder. “I got into every school that I applied to, all _twelve_ of them, on my _grades_ , and my _essays_ , and my _phone interviews_ \--“

“You can’t be mad at me for not knowing this, you never told me--“

“You never asked!” Richie yelled. Eddie could practically see a cork pop off, and Richie’s emotions became immediately evident on his face. He was _pissed_. “You never once asked me what I want to do! No! But I know everything that YOU want to do, because I care enough to know, you know, I give a shit. You’re making plans to keep living with your mom, going to U-Maine, just continuing high school for the next four years!”

“What’s wrong with that?!” Eddie was yelling now too, unbidden. He glared Richie down from across the alley, his chest heaving. He was starting to feel furious, angrier than he had ever been in his whole life. “So I save money by NOT dorming, it’s called being responsible, you fucking idiot!”

“Don’t call me an idiot!” Richie shouted. His face was a highly alarming maroon. “It’s just-- _ugh_!” Richie flapped his arms out.

They were silent for a long time.

Eddie was the first to break. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed forecefully. “I don’t want to fight,” He said, voice shaky. Guilt settled in his stomach like a lead weight. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe,” Richie started, his eyes fixed on some forward point over Eddie’s shoulder. “Maybe I don’t want to be the dirty secret that you keep locked away in your room for the next who-knows-how-long.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Richie looked at him. He was glaring at Eddie again, but his expression was twisted into something caught between anger and sorrow. “I’m a fag,” Richie said. “I’m super queer. Gay as ever loving fuck. I love cock, your cock specifically, and your ass, and your mouth, and-“ he cut himself off and shook his head. It took a second for him to continue in a more tacit tone. “I’m not ashamed of who I am. Or who I want to be. And I’m certainly not ashamed of _you_. I know you don't want to be out, you're not ready, and I'm okay with that, but I can't just sit in this town and wait for you to realize that I'm half of this thing, too.”

“Richie, I’m not ashamed of you--“

“Don’t lie to me!” Richie shoved his hands into his pockets. “Because before you knew how gay I meant it, I could put my hands all over you in public. I could pick you up and kiss your cheek and not once did you ever care. But now that I’m so _gay_ for you, now that I _suck your dick_ once a week--“

“Stop it,” Eddie hissed. “Stop it, Rich. You’re acting--“

“--like an idiot,” Richie’s voice was cold.

“I don’t want anybody to know!” Eddie exploded. “This is Derry! People get jumped, people go missing, for way less than being queer. My mother,” he felt sick just bringing Sonia into this. “She’ll kill me. She’ll kill me if she finds out.”

“So you want to put yourself in a spot to hide for four more fucking years? I can take you away from here, Ed--”

“You don’t get it Richie! You can’t relate! Your parents don’t give a shit about you! They don’t care about what you do, but my mother cares about me!” The silence that followed was a vacuum, and Richie goes from red to paper white so fast that it would be funny if it weren’t so horrible. Eddie clapped his hands up to his mouth. Behind his palms, his lips were trembling. “Richie,” he whispered.

“Yeah. I get it.” Richie turned around, shoulders squared, and stalked towards the end of the alley. He yanked his bike off of the bike stand and mounted it. His face was the color of old oatmeal. “Only took two months for you to tell me how you really feel.”

“Richie!” Eddie shouted. He ran out of the alley after the taller boy. “Richie, I’m sorry.”

Richie whirled around, lips pressed tight. “You can’t just keep me where it’s convenient for you to use me whenever you want,” he hissed. “Get a fucking dildo.” He kicked his bike into motion and he was gone, fast, his long legs furiously working him up the block and out of sight.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie swore. “Richie!” He yelled, but Richie was gone.

“Awww,” he heard a jeering voice and he whipped around, seething, ready for a fight. It was Belch and Victor, Henry’s Bowers’ lackeys-

 

_and what happened to Henry again, that fuckish asshole, Eddie can’t quite remember but he feels the horror of truth sitting just behind the reach of his memory, looking at him with lamps for eyes_

 

-sneering in their usual thuggish way. They had both graduated from Derry high, a lowkey miracle, one last year and one the year before. They stayed in town, Eddie assumed, to mentor the smaller but just as shitty bullies that roamed the halls of the school to this day.

It was Victor Criss who spoke, his voice soft. “The little faggots,” he said, mouth quirked. “Having a little faggot fight.” 

Eddie clenched his fists, jaw set. “Sure are,” he said. “We’re fighting to see who gets to bone your mother first.”

Belch let out a low guffaw of laughter and Victor’s eyes flashed dangerously. “What did you say?” He stepped off of the brick surface of the Aladdin, advancing towards Eddie. 

“I said, Richie and I are going to run a fucking TRAIN on your fucking MOTHER!” Eddie yelled, propelling himself back sharply as Victor grabbed him by the scruff of his collar. “Get off of me!” The bully swung back to punch him and Eddie winced, closing his eyes.

The punch never landed.

After a moment, Eddie opened his eyes. Victor was inches away, breathing heavily through his clenched jaw. He was frozen in place with one hand around Eddie’s shirt and the other in the air, wavering, as if he was struggling against the atmosphere.

“Back off,” Eddie heard from behind him, and Victor was thrown back into the façade of the Aladdin, pinned like an insect specimen.

“Are you okay?” Eddie turned around, stupefied, and saw Mike. Mike looked worried and irritated, and he had two boxes of movie theater candy stuffed into his windbreaker pocket. Behind him was El, face fierce.

“Y-Yes,” Eddie said. El looked at him briefly and then her gaze snapped back to Victor; Belch was using both hands to pry his friend off of the wall, but he couldn’t seem move him an inch.

“Back off,” El repeated. “Dipshits.” She tilted her head and Victor’s moans of fear turned into a high yelp of pain. The hand that he was going to punch Eddie with was sharply twisted, and Eddie felt black spots of nausea teasing at the edge of his vision when it twisted a little more, skin stretched over the jagged bone underneath. Mike steadied him when he stumbled back, gagging softly.

“Get out of here!” Mike yelled, and Victor, crying now, dropped like a puppet with cut strings. “Or she’ll take your whole fucking hand right off!”

Belch practically had to haul Victor up. “You’ll be so fucking sorry.” He spit at them and left, half carrying his friend, half dragging him.

“Fat chance,” El said. She used her thumb to wipe a dab of blood from underneath her left nostril.

“Where’s Richie?” Mike said. “Did he leave?”

Eddie nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak up; he felt half like he might scream and half like he might cry.

“Why?” El walked the few feet between them, closing off their trio. She was munching out of a large popcorn and it was just so casual that Eddie felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in his throat. He couldn’t help it. Mike and El looked at him, vague alarm painted over both of their faces.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, and then he burst into tears.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Mike said, waving his hands. El offered Eddie her popcorn but he waved it off, sniffling and scrubbing his eyes.

“I said something t-terrible,” Eddie groaned. “I feel awful.”

“Richie’s said some awful things in his day,” Mike said sagely. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you. You didn’t…” he hesitated. “Did you dump him?”

“What?” Eddie said, startled. “We didn’t…I don’t, I- did he tell--“

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Mike said hastily. “He didn’t tell me. I just knew, from the way you look at each other. And you’re all he talks about. It’s just,” he looked at El, who shrugged back.

“Obvious?” She supplied.

 Mike nodded vehemently. “Painfully obvious, but I don’t want to pry--“

“We aren’t,” Eddie said. “Dating. I’m not…I’m not out. We’re together? I guess. We haven’t really talked about it.”

They walked away from the theater, El holding her popcorn and the two boys walking their bikes.

“For what it’s worth,” Mike said quietly. “My best friend, Will, is gay. He came out two years ago. Nobody thinks any differently about him.”

Eddie looked at Mike, eyes wide. “It’s,” he cleared his throat. “It’s worth a lot. Thanks.”

“This town is wrong,” El said softly. Eddie looked at her and she looked back, honey eyes piercing him. “Lots of hate,” she said. “Hate and fear.”

“Wrong like the upside down?” Mike asked.

El shrugged one shoulder. “Yes, and no. It’s strange.” She stopped. “I can feel something here. Calling, but it wants us to go away, too.” Mike put the kickstand up on his bike, frowning.

“It’s beneath us,” she whispered. Her brows were furrowed and she pointed. Eddie turned to see where she indicated; it was a sewer grate. “It’s watching,” she said. Eddie turned back to her, his face pale. “You think it’s sleeping, but It isn’t. It’s…waiting.”

“Stop,” Eddie said.

“It wants you,” El said. “I can hear it.”

“Stop it!”

“It says…it says ‘float--“

“ _Stop_!” He could feel memories pushing against the wall at the back of his mind and he stumbled back, landing seated in the middle of the road. The sewer grate watched him like an eyeless socket. He rubbed his temples and they surged in, it’s-

 

_Billy Denbrough’s missing kid brother, Georgie, the one armed canary yellow slicker they found_

_Bev is floating, her eyes are grey and blank and she saw something that none of them can fathom, because she’s faced real horrors (tell me you’re still my little girl Bevvie the monster whispers wearing her father’s face and it doesn’t take a genius, no, it doesn’t) and she’s still terrified she’s still_

_“It looked like you,” Richie’s words are a rush. He and Eddie cling to each other after Neibolt Street, and Richie’s hands are on his back and his face in equal measure, his eyes are large and panicked “I had to follow it in there, it looked like you and I thought you were dead, Eddie_

_Ben is roaring and throwing rocks, his stomach is bleeding (hambugerhelper) and he keeps fighting, pushing through, he’s valiant but he’s scared and one misstep and they’re all dea_

_“I’ll suck you for a quarter. I’ll do it for a dime_

_Mike is ripping something off of Stanley’s face and Stan is inconsolable, screaming “You LEFT me” and later it’s “I hate you” but beneath the dispassion there’s humor but under that there’s_

_“It isn’t loaded,” Mike is whispering and then louder “It’s NOT LOADED, BILL_

_“I’ll do it for free, kid_

_“We make a p-promise,” Bill is saying, and the glass in his hand glimmers in the sun, “If It comes back, we c-come back. If It comes back we_

_That gross hand on his shoulder and he’s falling, his chest feels crushed and he needs his inhaler and he can’t breathe, can’t move his arm can’t breathe where are Richie and Bill can’t breathe-_

 

-overwhelming.

“Eddie,” Mike said urgently, but it was El that reached him first. Her popcorn was gone and she held his hands as he gulped for air.

“Breathe,” she whispered.

“I can’t,” he croaked. “My inh-“

“You can,” she stared into his eyes, and Eddie could feel her pulling pieces of him out, looking through them, putting them back. She put a little of herself into him too, like a calm, cool hand on a fevered forehead. “Breathe,” she insisted.

Eddie did, staccato and slow. El squeezed his hands and Eddie found that he couldn’t help but do what she said; it was like her hand was inside of his chest, massaging his lungs, forcing clean air in and used air out. Mike kneeled beside them, grave concern written on his face.

He looked so much like Richie that it made Eddie feel sick.

“I’m okay,” Eddie whispered, just as his insides seemed to contract and roll. “Oh, no, wait- let go!” El let go of his hands just in time and Eddie bent over to the side and hurled, retching up popcorn and soda until he was dry heaving, his stomach lurching painfully.

“Oh God,” he panted, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand. “That was so disgusting, I’m so sorry. Did I get you?” El shook her head, mirth twitching at the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” Eddie repeated, this time to Mike. Mike shook his head, hair swishing, and Eddie felt another aimless pang of longing.

“It isn’t going to get you while I’m here.” El stood and wiped off the knees of her bluejeans. She held out her hand to Mike and he took it, standing. Eddie stood up slowly.

“Are you sure?” he asked, feeling small and pathetically afraid.

“Promise,” she said simply. Eddie nodded, rubbing his chest. “But,” she added, cutting Eddie a severe look. “I won’t be here forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everybody! I hope you like everything I've got going on here. Chapter 2 will be up in a few days!  
> Hope you guys like it! 
> 
> Li'l Headcannon:
> 
> Richie's parents bought him his guitar when he was thirteen to keep him out of their hair. Richie's a leftie, but they got him a right-handed guitar because it was cheaper/they didn't notice. So Richie learned to play the guitar right handed. 
> 
> My tumblr is @waxagent, come bug me there.  
> xoxoxoxo


	2. The Same Deep Water As You

“E-Eddie?” Bill asked, rubbing at his eyes. He wore a backwards t-shirt and sweats, and he was wobbling around the edges, freshly awakened. “It’s early. Everything okay?”

Eddie shook his head, arms wrapped around his own middle. It was quarter after seven on Saturday and he was standing outside of Bill Denbrough’s house in shorts and a baggy sweatshirt, looking messier than he’d ever looked in public. “I need help,” he said. “I’ve been up all night.” Nothing could have been truer. He’d sat in the corner of his bed, back against the wall, waiting for _It_. As the sun had brightened the pre-morning sky, he’d crept downstairs to the landline in the kitchen and picked it up off of the receiver, Richie’s phone number itching at his fingers. Chickenshit and ashamed, he’d set it back down without dialing a single digit.

“Sure, come in,” Bill said. He stood aside.

Eddie walked into the house and toed off his shoes, setting them neatly beside the doorframe. “I’m sorry, I know that I woke you.”

“It’s s-seven on a Saturday, so yeah, but no apologies required,” Bill squeezed Eddie’s shoulder. “Come up, tell me what’s going on.” They made their way upstairs. The door to the bedroom before Bill’s, as always, was resolutely closed. They walked past it silently, into Bill’s room, and Eddie gave Georgie’s empty room a wide and wary berth.

“Now,” Bill said. He crossed his arms. “Tell me what’s guh-going on.” 

Eddie huffed and began to pace. He ran his hands through his hair, root to tip. He swung around, looked at Bill, and started pacing faster. “I have to talk to you,” He began, but didn’t know how to proceed; between the clown and Richie and coming out and college, he felt stuck. 

“I n-noticed,” Bill said drily. He sat on the edge of his bed. “Take your time--“

“I’m gay!” Eddie erupted suddenly. “I’m super fucking gay!”

Bill blinked. “O-Okay.”

“I mean it! I think dick is great! I wanna marry a man someday. Maybe we’ll even have a house and an-an investment portfolio!”

“Sure, Eddie.”

“And I’ve been screwing Richie for months! And I like it! I fucking _love_ it!”

“P-Please don’t go into details.”

“Aren’t…” Eddie lost steam. He fell to his knees. “Aren’t you mad?”

“What?” Bill huffed out a surprised laugh. “N-no. Of course not. Why w-would I be mad, Eddie?”

“It’s…I’m _queer_ , Bill.”

“I heard you,” Bill sunk down off of the bed and sat beside Eddie. “It d-doesn’t matter.” He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting their heads together. “It’ll never matter to any of us. I p-promise.”

“Okay,” Eddie said vacantly. “Okay.” He accepted the comfort from Bill for a moment, feeling oddly fatigued. “Thank you.”

Bill laughed. “Don’t thank me for being a decent human.”

“Richie wants to come out,” Eddie said softly. Bill was rocking him slowly, and Eddie felt the terror latent inside of his lungs and his stomach recede a little. “Or he…I don’t know.”

“It’s a very personal choice,” Bill said. “Ha-have you talked to him about it?”

Eddie shook his head. “We had a screaming match over it last night. I said nasty things to him,” he couldn’t bring himself to tell Bill about California. That would make it real. “He thinks I’m keeping him a secret because I’m ashamed.”

“A-Are you?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie whispered. His eyes were burning. “Maybe. Maybe a little.”

“You’re worried about your mom.”

Eddie laughed weakly. “I’m abjectly terrified of my mom. It’s just all so much.” He wiped his eyes.

Bill sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was kind and soft. “Richie c-came out to me three years ag-ago.” Eddie looked at him, wide eyed and shocked, but Bill only shrugged. “It wasn’t my story to tell you, but s-seeing as how you obviously already know…He isn’t the k-kind of person who can keep any part of himself locked away. And he p-probably feels a little p-pushed, y’know. Back into the closet.” Bill stroked Eddie’s hair absently. “That d-doesn’t mean he can force you out, Eddie. N-nobody can decide when you’re ready but you, okay?”

“I get it.”

“A-and I don’t think he’s trying to do that, but you’re experiencing some static. And I think you need t-to talk.”

Eddie groaned, rubbing his face. “Why are you so good at people, Bill?”

Bill laughed and patted Eddie’s head. He stood to help the smaller man up. “Because you and Richie are so p-painfully transparent I could read you on an overhead projector.”

Eddie laughed and cleared his throat, sobering quickly. “I had something else to tell you.”

“Sure,” Bill smiled. “What’s up?”

Eddie looked up at Bill, into his earnest blue eyes. He felt his pulse start to pound.

_“W-w-we have to f-follow It!” Bill exclaims, “we h-ha-have to k-kill It!”_

_Bill punching Richie, it takes all five of the other Losers to restrain their fighting friends_

_They crowd around their fearless leader while he sobs, clutching a tiny rain jacket to his chest_

_“We make a p-promise-_

He couldn’t do it.

“Let me take you out to breakfast!” Eddie exclaimed far too loudly. Bill blinked. “I-I want to take you out to breakfast.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” Eddie said firmly. “That’s it.”

* * *

“Of course,” Eddie mumbled. “Of fucking course.” He and Bill go to their favorite twenty-four hour diner, one of only two inside of the Derry city limits. There were a scattering of tired college students and elderly folks, but it was the sunny booth at the far right end of the restaurant that Eddie was drawn to. Richie sat there with Mike and El; at the ringing of the bell announcing their arrival, all three teens looked over at the door. Mike smiled and waved them over.

“We should have gone to the other fucking diner,” Eddie hissed. He tugged his sweatshirt down past the hem of his shorts. Bill chuckled and gave him a friendly shove. 

“Hey!” Mike said cheerily. He sat behind a half finished plate of eggs and sausage. El smiled at them, half finished with a waffle. Richie had about three and a half portions of French toast on the table in front of him. “Good morning, Eddie.”

“Morning,” Eddie grumbled. He waited with Bill at the end of the booth until it became painfully obvious that Bill was not in a merciful mood, so Eddie, flushed to the roots of his hair, sat down next to Richie. Richie’s mouth was tight and his high cheekbones were red; as soon as Eddie’s hip brushed his, he shoved an over large bite of French toast into his mouth so that he didn’t have to say anything. Eddie looked down.

“H-Hi,” Bill said warmly. He slid in on Eddie’s other side, blocking all hope of escape. “I’m--“

“Bill Denbrough,” Mike said, extending his hand. Bill shook it firmly. “We met when we were way, way younger. Maybe seven?”

“You r-remember me,” Bill said, pleased and faintly surprised. 

“It’s the stutter,” Richie mumbled. Mike shot him a severe glare. 

“Sorry about my cousin,” Mike said loudly. “He’s been so fucking pissy this morning that I had to fight the urge to force feed him actual rat poison.”

“Bite me, bitch,” Richie said. They flipped each other off.

“This is El,” Mike said, and Bill shook her hand too. El seemed warmer than yesterday; there was a serene pull about her that made Eddie feel safe. The sewer grate seemed so far away.

“N-nice to meet you,” Bill said, accepting the menu that Mike offered him. The three of them started talking about what looked good, but Eddie couldn’t focus on them. He was lost in the angry hunch of Richie’s shoulders and, the downward tilt of his mouth. Richie was staring at his French toast like it killed his whole family, and saying nothing. 

“Hey,” Eddie whispered. Richie ignored him. “Hey.” Nothing.

Richie’s plate rattled alarmingly and he and Eddie both startled. Across the table, El was watching them over a glass of milk, her eyes narrowed. Richie huffed, looking over at Eddie. 

“What?” he hissed back. 

Eddie faltered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean it,” Richie snorted and Eddie furrowed his brow. “I’m just…” he hesitated, running his hand through his hair for about the fiftieth time that morning. “Can we talk? Outside?”

Richie set his jaw. He nodded. “Scoot out Big Bill,” he said. 

Bill nodded and stood, allowing his two friends out of the booth. “E-excuse me,” he said softly to a passing waitress, and sat back down. Richie stormed out of the restaurant and Eddie followed, nervously fidgeting with the bottom of his sweatshirt. 

“Alright,” Richie said the moment that they were outside, alone. “If you want to end it, whatever, do what you’ve gotta do. Make it quick.”

“What?”

“Break it off,” Richie said simply. “Just do it fast, Kaspbrak. It’s cold out.”

His heart pounded in his chest. “I’m not doing that, Richie- Christ. I’m so sorry,” Eddie said. A spring breeze ruffled through the nearly deserted street and Eddie shivered, but otherwise stood his ground, his gaze locked resolutely on Richie. “I was so shocked and I was so _mad_ , that I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want to break it off. I want to work it out.” 

Richie breathed in and nodded. He rocked back and forth on his feet for a second and avoided looing at Eddie. “I wanted to tell you,” he said. He took off his light denim coat and draped it over Eddie’s shoulders. “About the colleges. I didn’t know how. Every time I thought I could--“

“Don’t,” Eddie said, feeling choked. 

“I was too scared of what you’d think, that I did it all without telling you. And then I felt like I couldn’t tell you because I’d already _done_ it and I--”

“Richie,” Richie’s bottom lip twitched and he pulled Eddie into his arms, burying his face into the brunette’s messy hair. “It doesn’t matter,” Eddie whispered. “What your parents think or what my mom thinks or where you want to go to school--“

“Eddie--“

“I want to be with you,” Eddie said. “I want to be with you, Richie. I want…I want you to be my boyfriend. For real.”

Richie’s eyes were wide. “Wait. I thought we were boyfriends this whole time?”

“No way. You have to ask, you can’t just decide in your head. It’s a question and answer process.”

“Is this…is this you asking me?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, Richie. Be my boyfriend.”

“Is there a question mark at the end of that demand?”

“ _Richard_.”

“Fuck yes, I will be,” Richie squeezed Eddie tight. The wind shuddered through them again and they swayed with it, holding each other. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, mouth pressed into Eddie’s temple. “We’ll talk, okay, we’ll figure everything out. I’m not going to lose you because we have communication constipation.” Eddie snorted against Richie’s chest. Richie sighed, stroking Eddie’s hair. 

“I couldn’t lose you if I tried,” Eddie mumbled. He looked up at Richie. He took in the taller man’s curls blowing in the light wind, the gentle slope of his nose and the wide, sensuous mouth. Richie’s eyes were warm and sincere behind his specs. Eddie was struck by the man’s compelling features, and by the sheer magnitude of his beauty. He felt love on the tip of his tongue and swallowed it back. 

Another time, for sure. He didn’t want the first time he said it to feel like an apology. 

Richie hummed, a little smile playing on his lips. He rubbed a calloused thumb over Eddie’s cheek. “Eddie Spaghetti,” He mumbled, kissing him very fast once, then again. “It’s borderline criminal to apologize to me in this outfit, you know.”

“Richie.”

“How am I supposed to be able to stay mad when I can see this much thigh?”

Eddie huffed, blushing. “Shut up, you’re such a horndog.” 

“If I was showing off that much leg you’d have a difficult time resisting my heartfelt advances. Especially if I looked up at you with those doe eyes,” Richie kissed Eddie’s mouth. “And those sweet fucking lips, Jesus.”

“Alright Casanova,” Eddie said. “Your french toast is probably getting cold. Let’s go back inside.”

“I know you probably won’t understand, but it’s even better when it’s cold.”

“You’re a monster.” Feeling bold, Eddie laced his hand with Richie’s, and Richie positively beamed at him. They floated back to their table in the diner, hand in hand, and slid into their both beside Bill. Once they were seated, Richie loosened his fingers to release Eddie’s hand, but Eddie shook his head. Richie looked at him, both eyebrows raised, and Eddie just kissed his _boyfriend’s_ knuckles. 

“Hey, um,” Richie’s voice cracked, and Bill snickered on Eddie’s other side. “Hey Big Bill, pass the salt.”

“Salt,” Eddie deadpanned. Richie nodded and poured a liberal amount of salt over the remnants of his meal. “On french toast?”

“Yeah, baby,” Richie said nonchalantly, but his eyes were twinkling as he took a bite. “It brings out the sugar. It’s science.”

“That’s not science.”

“Is too. You ever heard of salted caramel?”

“Bill,” Eddie groaned, looking at his friend for help. 

Bill chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. “He’s not wrong, Eddie. Salted caramel is a r-real thing.”

“Bill,” Eddie breathed, utterly betrayed. 

“ _Science_ ,” Richie said, gobbling down another mouthful. Across the table, El picked up the saltshaker delicately, seasoned her last bit of waffle, and popped it into her mouth. 

“El!” Mike gasped, horrified. El chewed and swallowed. She shrugged and wiped her mouth on a napkin. 

“Good,” she said. Richie shot his fist up in triumph. 

Mike dropped his face into his hands. “You’ve _ruined_ her.” 

They ate and made small talk in equal measures, and nobody said anything about the fact that Eddie and Richie held hands through the entire meal. It was like Richie’s birthday all over again; they couldn’t stop catching eyes and smiling. They bumped shoulders and knees, and Eddie even leaned up and kissed Richie’s cheek at one point. Richie looked about to explode from joy. Mike almost flipped the table when Richie peppered his coffee. 

As soon as their ragtag group paid and left the restaurant, Richie hauled Eddie up and spun him in a quick, tight circle. 

“Do NOT,” Eddie groaned, shoving at his over zealous captor. “I will hurl eggs all over you, Richie, I swear to God.” 

Richie gasped and brought Eddie to a stop right in front of his face. “But Eds, what if I like it?”

Bill groans from beside them. “P-Please, don’t, Eddie. For the good of mankind.”

“I’ll find a way to resist,” Eddie shoved himself out of Richie’s arms. “What were you guys planning before we came in?” 

“We were going to go back to the quarry,” Mike said. “El likes it there. If you guys are game, of course.”

Eddie looked at Bill, who shrugged and smiled. “I’m in,” he said. “I l-love the quarry.”

“I love those cute little shorts, goddamn,” Richie said dreamily from behind Eddie. “The quarry ranks a close second, I guess.”

It wasn’t far to the quarry and it was a wonderful walk to boot; the day was getting warm and sunny, and it was only going lovelier as mid-morning settled over Derry. Eddie felt warm and content in Richie's big denim jacket, with Richie batting his eyelashes at him constantly. El walked ahead of them while Bill and Mike hung behind and talked to each other. They were almost out on the ledge over the water before El stopped sharply, shoulders tense. 

Richie almost walked into her. El jumped away from him; her eyes were suspicious and wary. “Don’t,” she said softly. “Stay there.”

“What is it?” Eddie asked, a frown pulling at his lips. Bill and Mike were still a good forty feet behind and suddenly, absurdly, Eddie wanted to scream at them to turn back and run. “El?” 

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered. She stepped towards the tree line and turned around just in time for Belch Huggings to leap out and swing a branch the size of a two by four into the side of her skull. 

Eddie screamed, his fluttering hands flying up to cover his mouth. Beside him, Richie snapped into forward motion. He jumped at Belch to tackle him and would probably been successful if Victor Criss hadn’t slammed into him from the side, darting out from the trees to blitz Richie into the ground. Richie grunted, stunned, and Victor punched him. 

Eddie ran to El. She was out cold, her eyelids fluttering, and the side of her face was bleeding very badly. Eddie heard rushing footfalls behind him; Bill and Mike were racing in. Richie was still wrestling with Victor somewhere ahead of him and El’s face was pale and red; there was so much happening that he didn’t even notice Belch’s size fourteen work boot until it slammed into his shoulder. He shrieked, pain lighting the side of his body where Belch had kicked him, and had just enough wherewithal to deke left to avoid a true stomping. 

“E-Eddie!” Bill was almost level with him when another bully, this one a stranger, jumped him. Bill shouted and fell down with his assailant, grappling for purchase. 

Mike reached El and Eddie, immediately pressing the palm of his hand to his girlfriend’s pallid face. “El!” He cried. He grabbed her shoulders and shook, and she groaned weakly, her eyelashes fluttering. 

“That’s for my fucking hand,” Victor snarled. He had Richie in a headlock and he yanked him back, further separating him from his friends. “The doctor says I might never get full function back, you know,” he stage whispered to Richie, and ignored his captive’s increasingly frantic struggles. “Bye bye, dreams of becoming a mechanic.”

“Get the FUCK off of me,” Richie roared. He kicked out wildly, unable to get any leverage in the dusty soil. 

“Fuck you!” Victor bellowed. He reeled back hard on Richie’s neck and hammered his fist against Richie’s chest and stomach. Richie grunted, his glasses falling off of his face. Victor wasted no time before stomping them into the dirt.

“Run, Eddie!” Richie tried to shout, his words strained and breathless. “Mike, you guys get the fuck out of here!”

“That’s really not going to be an option,” Victor said, and Belch swung his weapon down towards El again. Mike was on top of her in a split second; he wrenched out a scream as the blow fell across his back. Belch lifted the stick to try again and Eddie saw his chance disguised in the conflict between Mike and Belch; he lunged forward, grabbed one of Belch’s legs and bit into his calf. Belch shouted, more out of surprise than actual pain, and stumbled. Mike grabbed the branch and yanked it from Belch’s hands, and all three of them fell into a scuffling pile, narrowly missing El’s prone form. Mike ended up on top and wasted no time, his fist connecting with the face of the larger bully. 

Eddie scrambled to get out from underneath the two. “Bill!” He shouted, struggling. Bill and his opponent seemed evenly matched, but Bill’s face was starting to show wear in the form of a nosebleed and a split lip. He spared Eddie a quick glance and was quickly punished for it when the wiry bully that he was fighting caught him in the back of the knee and brought him down. 

“You’d better get off of Belch, or I’m gonna throw this piece of shit faggot right over the edge,” Victor swore. He was panting and sweaty with effort as he hauled a struggling Richie up and over towards the cliff. “I swear to God I’m gonna do it. Don’t fucking test my patience.”

Mike looked up, heaving, and Belch shoved him back. He kicked at Eddie as he stood, spitting a heavy mouthful of blood down into his face, and Eddie was instantly full of a white, blinding rage-

_Vomit all over him in the sewer, in his eyes ears mouth and nose, “I’M GONNA FUCKINGKILLYOU”--_

-and he screamed, “ _FUCK YOU_!”, cocked back his fist, and punched Belch straight in the balls. Belch bellowed like a wounded moose and went down hard, panting, his hands clutched between his legs. 

“Yes, Eddie!” Richie yelled, gagging when Victor yanked back hard on his neck. “You know they only call us faggots because they want our dicks so give him what he FUCKING wants! I bet he loved feeling your tiny little fist on his tiny little sac!”

Victor paused, a sneer blooming on his face, and Richie took his first opening. He planted his feet on the ground and elbowed Victor in the gut over and over until the man behind him grunted and lost his grip. Richie pushed out from under his meaty arm and made to run to Eddie and Mike, but Victor was back in front of him in a blink, blocking his way. 

“Don’t think so,” Victor panted, his eyes glinting. 

Richie held up both hands, backed to the edge of the cliff. “It’s okay,” he said, and Eddie could feel the sarcasm over the distance between them. “It’s okay, guys, I know what’s going on.”

“Richie!” He yelled. Richie ignored him.

“It’s okay to be jealous, Vicky,” Richie continued. A dark smirk curled the edges of his lips. “If you wanted a piece of my ass, all you had to do was ask.” He dropped his hand and grabbed himself lewdly. “I’m down for all different sorts of dudes, just ask your daddy.”

Victor turned purple and his eyes followed Richie’s hand down to his dick. Richie swung out with his other arm and tried trying to grab the bully, but he wasn’t fast enough and his aim was too far right; Victor pulled back, enraged, and slammed his unbroken fist into the dead center of Richie’s face. Richie staggered back from the impact, his nose pouring blood in a geyser. 

“ _Richie_!” Eddie screamed again. Richie looked in Eddie’s direction, his eyes unfocused. He stumbled back, spitting out a glob of blood, and Victor swung again, nailing him under his chin. Richie fell back with the impact and pinwheeled his arms and, for a frightening second, he seemed to stand on thin air. Then, silently, he dropped off of the edge of the cliff. 

Mike was up before anybody else could react. He sprinted towards the edge, shucking his coat and shoes, and jumped past Victor to dive off of the cliff. His hands came together in front of him and his body made a graceful arc against the midmorning sky before he was out of sight. 

Eddie surged forward after Mike, but Belch, recovered, caught him around the middle and slammed him backwards. Eddie clawed at him, kicking and shouting, but the much larger man was unmovable. Vaguely aware of Bill shouting behind him, Eddie doubled his efforts, but Belch had him on his stomach with his arms pinned behind him faster than he could react. He grabbed Eddie’s hair and slammed his face into the ground once, a warning, and Eddie felt his world go grey around the edges. 

“Well,” he heard Victor from somewhere behind him. “That’s a start.” Eddie heard him approaching, a solitary set of footsteps, and the sound of a switchblade’s click…and then, suddenly, terrifyingly, nothing at all. 

“…Victor?” He heard Belch ask, and then there was a mighty gust of air and a shriek from the man on top of him, and Eddie was free. He crawled away and rolled over, sitting up, and saw all three of their attackers suspended in mid-air, gasping for breath but unable to scream out. El was standing in the middle of the chaos, brows down, her mouth bent in silent rage. The side of her head was caked in clotting blood, slicking her curls down. More dripped from both of her nostrils. 

She looked like a goddamn hero. 

“Go,” she said, one thunderous syllable, and Eddie scrambled up. He was flying on his feet, behind El, over Bill, and down the steep descent of the rough path that lead to the quarry. Branches whipped over his face and arms but he ran through them, heedless. He could hear Bill distantly behind him, yelling his name, but he didn’t slow down. Further back, he heard El scream once, a loud and terrible sound, and another, higher pitched male voice that answered back, “ _PLEASE, NO_ \--“ 

In the basin of the quarry, Mike had pulled Richie onto the lowest part of the rocky shore. Both of them were dripping wet. Mike coughed, one hand on his cousin’s shirt and one on his own chest. Richie was pale and still beneath him. 

“Oh my God,” Eddie said. He collapsed beside them and Mike pulled his hand back. Eddie swooped over his boyfriend and cupped his cheeks. He was cold to the touch and unresponsive. 

“He was at the b-bottom,” Mike shivered. “He needs CPR,” and it was all that Eddie needed to hear. He was over Richie instantly, compressing his chest and his lips were on his in a sharp succession, breathing, giving air, and compressing again. 

“Richie, come on,” Eddie said, but Richie didn’t move. His lips were going blue and there were bruise like smudges underneath both of his eyes. Eddie pressed his lips down and breathed into him again. He feels hysteria bubbling up inside of his chest; it felt like he was touching something dead. 

_The clown_ , Eddie thought wildly, _the clown held him under just long enough, he wants to separate us like the house on Neibolt Street_ \--

“El,” Mike gasped. It was all of the warning that Eddie was given before he was thrown backwards off of Richie and through the air. He sailed several feet away before El set him down unceremoniously beside Bill. 

“No, no,” Eddie moaned and stood up, but Bill grabbed him around his waist and held him still. “Oh, no, please, Bill, he needs me--“ He hung in Bill’s arms, tears coursing down through the blood and dirt on his cheeks. “Bill, _please_ \--“

“E-Eddie, l-look,” Bill said. “Just l-look.” Eddie watched from Bill’s hold, heaving. 

El was straddling Richie, seated right where Eddie had been only seconds before. Both of her hands were open, palm down, over his chest. A moment passed; her brows furrowed and she spread her fingers farther while the air around her seemed to vibrate. When it happened, suddenly, it happened all at once; Richie’s body arched like a strung bow, and water poured high out of his mouth and nose, a steady, rushing stream of it, six inches high. El leaned in and pressed her mouth to Richie’s, breathing in once, one hand on his chest and the other cupping his cheek. 

Richie gasped sharply. His eyes flew open and his whole body arched again in a spasm. He yanked his head away from El and coughed, retching up the last cupful of water in his body. “Oh _Jesus_ ,” he gagged, voice hoarse. “ _Fuck_.” He shoved El off of him and rolled over, panting, and threw up again. 

“Rich, oh my God,” Mike sagged to his knees and buried his face in his hands. El went over to him and he grabbed her in a crushing embrace, smoothing back her hair and kissing her. Eddie realized with a sharp clarity that El was crying, her tears mingling with the fresh blood running down the lower half her face. 

“Richie,” Bill said, voice thick, and Richie swung around to stare at them. He kicked his feet out and stood, and crumpled to his knees almost instantly. “N-no, don’t.” Eddie sobbed, a wrenching, gulping sound. He and Bill closed the distance between them; Richie pulled Eddie into his arms, and Bill pulled Richie into his. They were all shaking. 

“Eddie,” Richie said, his voice barely real. “Baby, don’t cry.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie said, his arms wound tight around Richie’s waist. “Don’t tell me what to do, Richie, oh my God, I was so _worried_ \--”

“Eds--“

“I thought I w-was going to lose you,” Eddie kissed Richie, over and over, everywhere he could reach. 

“Not even if you wanted to,” Richie grinned weakly. “But for now, I think I could really use some medical attention.”

“I-I’ll walk up and call an ambulance,” Bill said. “R-R-Richie, are you okay?”

“Profoundly not,” Richie said. “Better make sure they have room for El--“

“No,” El said. 

“No ambulance for her, she doesn’t like it…to be confined that way,” Mike explained.

Richie took a breath to say something and ended up coughing instead. He hacked out another mouthful of water. “Fuck,” he hissed, wiping his pale lips with the back of his hand. 

“Stop talking,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, fat chance,” Richie sniffled.

“I-I…should I get an ambulance f-f-for them?” Bill asked, hesitant. “V-Vuh-Victor?”

“No,” El said.

“A-Are they d-d-d-d--“

“No,” El said, again. “Not dead.”

“O-Okay.”

“They’re bad men. Hateful. Afraid,” she hesitated, looking at Mike for support. He nodded, and she continued. “They’re alive; but they won’t bother you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the love and support, my friends. See you all soon for chapter 3!
> 
> xoxo


	3. Close to Me

Their ragtag group stumbled into the empty Tozier house in the early twilight hours; they had spent all day at the hospital, getting tested, poked, and prodded. Richie, predictably, was the worst off of the five. He had a concussion, a broken nose, cuts and bruises abound, three bruised ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. His throat was a ring of purple bruises that roughly imitated the shape of Victor’s meaty forearm. Richie could barely see a thing without his glasses and he complained about this almost constantly, ignoring his more serious injuries in favor of his most pressing handicap. He tripped over a stray shoe in the doorway and stumbled, almost bringing Mike down with him. 

“Be careful,” he simpered to Mike, his voice still very hoarse. “I’m _severely injured_ , Michael. Kid gloves.” 

“I will throw you off of the roof,” Mike said mildly. He helped Richie onto the couch and Richie hissed and frowned as he tried to get comfortable. He settled for sitting stiffly, rubbing at his slinged arm. He took it out of the sling and rotated it once, twice, and slid it back in. 

“C-can I use your phone?” Bill asked. “I want to call everybody; Mike S-Stan, Bev, Ben. To l-let them know what happened.” He lingered in the arch between Richie’s livingroom and his kitchen. He looked pretty beat up himself; he had a black eye and a puffy split lip, and one of his hands was swaddled in thick white bandages. 

“Make yourself at home, Bill,” Richie said. “I’ll just be over here waiting for the sweet release of death.”

“That is _not. Funny_.” Eddie said, fuming. He was standing in front of Richie with his arms crossed, a death glare written heavily across his features.

Richie grinned, crossing his legs. “Come on, Spaghetti Man, you’ve gotta be able to see a little humo--“

“R-Richie,” Bill said, voice stern, and Richie faltered a tiny bit underneath his sharp blue gaze. 

“It’s a little funny.”

“Beep beep, Trashmouth,” Bill said. He shook his head. “I-I’m gonna help myself to your fridge, too. Probably stay the night and all, give my p-parents fifteen more hours before I show up looking like this.” 

“Help yourself, my ‘rents are out of town. Some big dental-gala-blowout extravaganza,” Richie scoffed. “Somewhere that they can’t be reached when their only child is in the hospital. Nice. Remote. _Romantic._ ” Eddie uncrossed his arms and reached out, running both hands through Richie’s hair. 

“Come on El,” Mike said behind them. He looked tired but no worse for wear. It was El that they’d had the most trouble with at the hospital; she’d resisted treatment until the last second and even then, Mike had needed to hold her hand the entire time. She was swollen, still, but cleaned up, a line of tidy dark stitches decorating the side of her face. She nodded and took Mike’s hand, and together they went upstairs.

“They’re going to bang,” Richie stage whispered.

“We’re going to SLEEP!” Mike yelled back from upstairs. Richie cackled, his laughter quickly morphing into a harsh, hacking cough.

“I guess nothing gets the motor going like surviving a beat down.” Richie said, clearing his throat. He beckoned to Eddie. “Sit with me?” 

“I don’t know, Rich,” Eddie said softly, his frown deepening.

“I’ll tell you if it hurts,” Richie pleaded. “I need to hold you.” Eddie felt his heart skip a beat; how could he possibly refuse? He climbed onto the couch and skated his fingers down from his scalp to the sling that held Richie’s left arm in place. 

“It doesn’t really hurt,” Richie said. “Not after the good shit they gave me. Doctor said I could take it out of the sling tonight if I want. Just said to not, like, wave it all around and shit, but who would seriously--“

“I was so scared,” Eddie whispered. He curled his arms against his boyfriend’s chest and twisted Richie’s incredibly dirty, bloody shirt in his fingers. “When Mike pulled you out of the water, I thought you were dead.”

Richie sighed. He pressed a kiss Eddie’s cheek. “I thought if I could distract Victor, you guys could get out.”

“You tried to drag him off of the cliff with you! That’s not a distraction, it’s suicide!” 

“It’s not that high! We jump it all of the time. And I didn’t expect him to punch my lights out, you know.” Eddie laughed wetly. “Eddie, please don’t cry again.”

“I can’t fucking help it,” Eddie sniffled. “Over the last two days I should be a dried up fucking raisin for all of the fluids I’ve lost.”

“I can think of a fun way for you to get your electrolytes back,” Richie grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Eddie groaned. “I don’t know how you do it. I feel like a wreck.”

“Everything worked out, though. We’re all alive. And you can guess what gets my motor running.”

“Everything, but especially my shorts,” Eddie deadpanned. “I know.” He pulled the blanket from the edge of the couch up to cover them and leans in, pressing their mouths together. “Mmm.”

“You taste like a doctor’s office,” Richie mumbled before quickly getting lost in their kiss, sucking on Eddie’s bottom lip and kneading at the small of his back with his free hand. He groaned, sliding his hand into the back of Eddie’s shorts. “God, these little shorts, I fucking love ‘em.”

“The list of things about me that you don’t love is shorter,” Eddie quipped. Richie chuckled and squeezed his ass. 

“That’s true,” Richie said, smiling. “It’s a list of practically zero things.”

Eddie smiled back, heart fluttering in his chest. _I love you,_ he thought. His eyes slipped closed and he kissed Richie again. _I love you;_ he gasped when Richie bit his bottom lip and let out a soft moan, letting Richie bring him in closer, letting him dip his head so that he could kiss and suck on Eddie’s neck. Eddie whined and arched his body, baring himself to Richie’s delicate attentions. “Richie,” he said softly, tugging the taller man’s shirt. 

Richie pulled his mouth off of Eddie’s neck with a _pop_ and fixated on his earlobe. “I know,” he purred. “No marks.” He bit gently and sucked the small lobe into his mouth, teasing.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie clutched harder at Richie’s shirt. “N-no, I was going to say I’m about to fall off of the couch.”

“Oh,” Richie blinked, and Eddie could feel his lashes against the shell of his ear. “Here, lemme,” he mumbled. He tried to arch up and pull Eddie in farther up against him, frowning when he ran out of room to manuever. He clucked his tongue and shifted his sling restrained arm, frowned, and re-adjusted. Richie made it through about two seconds of this before he stiffened, pain lancing over his features. “Ah fuck, here,” he tried to sit up straighter and gasped sharply, color rising in his face. “Nope, I just--“

“Richie,” Eddie cut in. “Let it go, it’s not gonna happen tonight.”

“You could get on top?”

“With your ribs? Fat fucking chance.”

Richie pouted. “This sucks so fucking bad.”

“Heroes never prosper,” Eddie kissed Richie’s forehead and sat up. “You need to take your pills from the doctor. You have an antibiotic, and a prednisone, and a pain pill.” He rubbed his chin. “You should start the prednisone now and take the pain pill tomorrow morning, and we can start the antibiotic tomorrow too, or whenever you have food next. Okay?”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you talk like your mom,” Richie grinned.

“O- _kay_?”

“Yes, Doctor Kaspbrak,” Richie said dutifully, still grinning up at Eddie. “Anything you say Doctor K.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie bit his bottom lip, smiling back. Richie gave him a heated look, and Eddie shimmied a little in place; he knew that look. 

“Yeah,” Richie pulled Eddie a little closer. “Lift up your sweatshirt, Doctor. And lay down. I think I know what to do.”

Eddie shivered and did as Richie asked. Richie climbed over him gingerly and slid down, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Eddie’s solar plexus, and then another just below it. 

“Rich,” Eddie moaned softly. “Don’t you dare hurt yourself.”

“I won’t, baby,” Richie’s response was just as soft. He licked a wide, hot stripe up Eddie’s chest. 

“This is disgusting,” Eddie said. His shorts were growing tighter nonetheless, and his breath was starting to catch. “I haven’t showered since before breakfast and I’m a dirty mess.”

“I like you dirty,” Eddie was almost laying flat now and Richie hovered over him, his mouth fixated on different parts of Eddie’s chest, intent in every movement and fevered glance. “I like you as dirty as you get.” He licked at one of Eddie’s nipples and nipped playfully. Eddie gasped. “Maybe if you want, we can move this up to the shower. I can get you clean.” He slid his good hand between Eddie’s legs and cupped him firmly. Eddie tilted his head back and rocked his hips. “I can scrub those hard to reach spots.”

“Yeah,” Eddie panted. Richie’s was rubbing him through his shorts and he had his mouth on Eddie’s chest and he was _alive_ and everything was just so _good_. “We’ll go up the stairs,” he said between gasps. “And you can bend me over in the shower and you can fuck me _hard_ , Rich.” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Richie said. Eddie whimpered and tugged Richie up, and without any hesitation they were kissing like they’d never stop. Eddie put his hand on Richie’s chest and felt his boyfriend’s heart fluttering underneath his palm and he was _soaring_ , insanely in love and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of passion and heat that they generated in the space between them. He whimpered into Richie’s mouth and broke their kiss to slide down and slot their hips together. Richie moaned above him. He pulled his bad arm out of his sling delicately and pressed his hand against Eddie’s lower back, rolling his pelvis. He moved his kisses up to Eddie’s throat and gasped through them, hot and open mouthed. “You’re so fucking _beautiful_ , Eds, fuck,” he moaned again and lifted one of Eddie’s thighs with his free hand, changing the angle of his rutting hips. 

“Take me upstairs,” Eddie panted. His head was angled back and his eyes were closed, afloat in the sea of attention. “Take me upstairs, Richie, please. I want you inside of me, _please._ ”

“Eddie,” Richie said, low and throaty. “God, fuck,” he pushed himself back into a sitting position and Eddie followed, kissing him all the while. “Eddie,” he repeated, and wrapped both arms around Eddie in a bear hug. “You have to lead the way. I can’t see shit.”

Eddie nodded and slid off of Richie’s lap. He stood on legs that feel like jello and extended both hands. Richie took them, standing slowly, and Eddie was _very_ obliged to see the tent in his lover’s jeans. 

“You okay?” Eddie asked, and Richie grinned at him, nodding. 

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

“Your shoulder? Ribs? Nose? Be honest.”

“Shoulder is sore but fine, don’t put pressure on my chest and I’ll be fine, and my nose is _fine._ Don’t headbutt me and I’ll be cool.” Eddie frowned, but lost the thread of his concern when Richie pulled him in for another searing kiss. “I have never wanted you so bad in my whole life,” Richie mumbled. He sucked on Eddie’s bottom lip and paused, resting their foreheads together. “And I’ve wanted you a _lot_ of times in my life.” 

“Okay,” Eddie whispered. He took Richie’s hand and guided him upstairs, going slow over the steps. He navigated the terrain by muscle memory, pulling Richie into his own bathroom and shutting the door behind them. The Toziers had a walk in shower and Eddie turned it on, feeling jittery and nervous in a way that he had never felt before. His stomach was full of butterflies and his fingers were trembling. He went to turn the light on, but Richie intercepted his reach and took his hand.

“Don’t,” Richie whispered. He kissed each one of Eddie’s knuckles on his right hand and then lifted his left, repeating the action. 

“Rich,” Eddie was mesmerized. The connection between them waxed, and Eddie pulled Richie in for another kiss. Richie stepped back, smiling, and pulled his t-shirt over his head and off. Eddie’s heart throbbed; Richie’s chest was black and blue all over, a swollen and miserable topography of pain. “Richie, your chest--”

“I know what it looks like,” Richie moved back into Eddie’s personal bubble, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt. “You can’t hurt me, Eds, please.”

“Okay,” Eddie let Richie lift off his shirt, and moved his hands to the buckle of Richie’s jeans. 

Richie sighed as Eddie stripped him bare, toeing off his own socks. “Hey Eddie? Is it possible for me to fuck you through those shorts?”

Eddie laughed and pulled down his shorts and briefs in one fluid motion. “Don’t be crass. Here,” he stepped backwards into the shower with Richie’s hands firmly in his own, and guided his lover into the stall. “Mmm,” Eddie groaned. He tilted his head back and let the warm water flow freely over him. “This feels amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Richie said, and Eddie was struck by the seriousness of his tone. Richie bundled Eddie up into his arms and kissed him tenderly. Eddie sighed and slid up arms up Richie’s back, feeling the glide of wet skin underneath his searching fingertips. Richie tilted his head and deepened their kiss, one of his hands between Eddie’s shoulder blades and the other one rubbing slow circles into his back, languid, unrushed.

They had never been like this before. Over the last two months they’d progressed to full intercourse, and Eddie had never found Richie lacking where their sex was concerned, but this was something else; Richie’s hands worked over the planes of Eddie’s sides and back while he took his time exploring Eddie’s mouth, licking into him with deliberate slowness. When he and Richie normally got together, it always had the pervasive feeling of fooling around, of a secret; amazing, but ultimately hidden away in one of their respective bedrooms. This…it felt like _more_.

“Here we go,” Richie murmured, the shape of his smile clearly defined against Eddie’s lips. Eddie felt him rubbing at his hair suddenly, and smelled the sharp mint of Richie’s shampoo. He giggled, unbidden, and Richie kissed him again, chaste and sweet. “Gonna get my pretty Eddie all clean.”

“Don’t call me pretty,” Eddie laughed. Richie had to have used a whole handful of shampoo; the suds cascaded down Eddie’s neck and back. “Mmm, that feels so nice.” 

“I bet,” Richie said, “Tilt your head back and close your eyes.” Eddie complied, sighing as Richie guided his head under the stream of water, running his fingers through Eddie’s thick sheaf of hair. 

“So good. Now turn around and brace your hands on the wall,” Richie grabbed a loofah from where it was hanging under the showerhead. “I want to get your back.” 

Eddie blushed and turned around, placing his hands on the tiled wall. The shower was small, a stand up affair with no bathtub, and it definitely wasn’t meant for two people. Eddie was pleased to find that, when spreading his feet and arching his back just so, he was close enough to Richie that he could feel his ass nudge against the other man’s erection. The resulting gasp from behind him was more than worth the cramped space. 

“Jesus, Eds,” Richie wasn’t touching him for a minute, and then he was running the soapy sponge along Eddie’s back. “You’re absolutely filthy.” His free hand caught Eddie’s hip and he started to rock against Eddie, who whimpered lowly. “Good thing you have me to clean you off,” Richie said, moving the loofah to Eddie’s chest and lower, lower, until he was so _close_ to where Eddie desperately wanted to be touched, teasing, leaving a soapy trail over Eddie’s inner thighs and pelvis. 

“Richie,” Eddie begged, arching his back even farther, feeling the shape of Richie’s cock so close to where he needs it, rocking a gentle rhythm against his asscrack. “Richie, I swear to _God_ \--“

“Don’t fall, okay?”

“What?” Eddie groaned, frustrated. “Richi--“

“I want to try something,” Richie let go of Eddie’s hip and Eddie felt him back up and sink down. His brows furrowed and he was about to turn around when he feels both of Richie’s hands spread his cheeks, and then- _oh_.

Eddie gasped, and would have jerked his hips straight away if Richie weren’t holding him in place. Richie laved his tongue against Eddie’s asshole, and Eddie whined, bucking his hips forward again and then back, bowing his head and panting, flushed a deep crimson down to his belly button. 

“ _Richie_ ,” He moaned loudly, too loud, but unable to _stop_. The feeling was totally new and very intense and good, so good, that he couldn’t stop from moaning again, full volume, when Richie pressed a long finger inside of him. “Ohmigod, Richie, baby, fuck, _please_ ,” Eddie was babbling and unashamed. “Richie, Richie, _Richie_ ,” Richie hummed behind him and added a second finger. He was taking his fucking time, of course, like he was eating a five-course meal and Eddie wasn’t dying under the focused spotlight of his ministrations. 

“You like that, baby?” Richie asked, his voice was rough and husky. “I had to test, you know,” he crooked his fingers and Eddie _wailed_ , body trembling. “Make sure you were clean enough to eat off of.” He dipped his head and licked just under the curve of Eddie’s buttcheek before returning to the task at hand. He licked another slow, long line up Eddie’s center and added another finger, driving his digits in and out. 

Eddie was a pulled apart, whimpering mess by the time Richie stood up. He saw a flash of Richie’s hand reaching for something- _hair conditioner_ , his addled brain supplied- and then he felt him lining up and pushing in. The stretch and burn was exquisite, because Eddie could never be ready for Richie’s cock no matter how much time the man spent prepping him. He moaned again, practically screaming now, propriety forgotten, and Richie grunted and rolled his hips fluidly, seating himself fully into the smaller man before stopping for a moment to get his bearings. 

“A-ah, shit,” Richie groaned. He rocked his hips shallowly. “Fuck, I can never get used to this,” he started thrusting in earnest, changing his angle every now and again, altering his tempo and his pace. Eddie knew, in some distant part of his brain that still knew things, that Richie was looking for that _spot_ buried in him, the one that would make his toes curl and his vision flash white; but it was almost as though Richie couldn’t avoid it. He slammed a home strike on almost every other thrust and Eddie felt his hands slip. He started to fall but Richie caught him, one hand on Eddie’s chest and the other one lower, wrapped around his leaking hard on. Eddie barely lasted two pumps before he was letting go with a wordless shout, coming hard over Richie’s hand. 

“Eddie, _Eddie_ ,” Richie moaned, his pace erratic. “God, I’mgonnacome, I--“ He slid a hand over to Eddie’s hip and Eddie felt him pulling out, and a wave of bold, naked longing suddenly flourished in his chest.

“Don’t,” Eddie panted, eyes shut. “Don’t pull out.”

Eddie felt Richie stop. “What?” He _always_ pulled out; it was part of the series of non-verbal agreements that, up until now, had quietly governed the nature of their relationship. _No marks. Nothing public. If you don’t use a condom, come on my back, never inside of me._

“Don’t pull out,” Eddie repeated, blushing. “I-I want…” He reached back over his head, grabbing a fistful of Richie’s curls. He tugged, feeling Richie gasp and shudder, and worked his hips back to keep their intimate contact. “I want you to, _please_.” 

“Okay,” Richie whispered. “ _Fuck_ , Eddie,” He buried his face in Eddie’s neck, gasping, and Eddie whimpered as he felt Richie hit home one final time, filling him up. It was new, and he was more than a little shocked to find that he _liked_ it. Richie groaned and thrust one more time, weakly. “God, Eddie, I just fucking…” Richie shuddered, kissing Eddie’s neck, his cheek, and the side of his head. He pulled out and they both moaned, Eddie’s trailing off into a soft whimper. 

“Richie,” Eddie said, and the name slipped out of his mouth fluidly. He staggered up and turned around, feeling bleary and coltish, like he was supporting his whole weight for the very first time. Richie’s cheeks were red and his eyes were half lidded, his hands still cupped around the swell of Eddie’s hips. “I want to.”

Richie wrinkled his nose and smiled. “Again?” His tone was laced with disbelief and no small amount of pride. “Give me fifteen minutes, I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Eddie cracked a smile and shook his head. “No, I just. I can’t concentrate, you’re so handsome,” he tugged Richie’s head down and kissed him, gently. “I want to go with you,” he whispered against Richie’s lips. “California, wherever. I don’t care. Take me with you.” 

Richie smiled and ran his hands back through Eddie’s hair. “Think about it some other time, maybe not right after I blew your fucking mind, okay?” Eddie nodded, eyes closed, but he knew that he’d already made up his mind. 

* * *

When Eddie woke up the next morning, it was to the feeling of Richie’s warm back pressed against his, and to the first rays of morning sunlight filtering into the room in shaky yellow waves. He sat up and stretched, feeling sated and warm and complete in a way that he had never even dreamed of. Beside him, Richie’s face was unlined and peaceful in sleep. His nose was puffy and he had two pretty decent black eyes, and Eddie loved every single inch of him. 

Eddie slipped out of bed, trying not to think of how long it had probably been since Richie had vacuumed his carpet. He twisted and cracked his back, adjusted himself in his briefs and looked around. Richie’s room looked like a tornado hit it, it always did, but there was a colorful, laminated stack of papers arranged perfectly on his cramped desk that caught Eddies eye. The only other thing remotely so neat was Richie’s precious guitar, second hand but shiny like new, stowed in the corner by his window. He walked over, curiously, and lifted a couple of sheets from the desk.

College brochures. There were at least three from California, and several more from Washington, Portland, Florida, and even New York. There were two from Tennessee; one touted an “unrivaled music learning experience” in a university in Nashville. One from Seattle was very well loved, creased and stained with coffee, and had several papers stapled beneath it. They were class lists, Richie’s acceptance letter, and a scholarship offer. Underneath those were job applications and lists of apartments. Richie’s messy, scrawled handwriting filled the margins of each paper, with annotations next to every option; “Good commute”, “slumlord, cockroaches probably”, “scenic crackhouse”, “nice porch, Eddie would like this”.

Eddie frowned. How many times in the last several months had he breezed into Richie’s room without noticing any of this? How many times had Richie tried to tell him? How many times had Eddie ignored him? 

“Normally, I can tell when you’re stressing because your cute little shoulders get all tense,” Richie mumbled. Eddie whipped around, startled, hands still clutching Richie’s college paraphernalia. “But since I can’t see you, I’m just going to assume you woke up refreshed and perky and ready for the next round.”

“Richie,” Eddie sighed. He set the papers back down and went to his lover, sitting lightly on the edge of the bad. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got run over by an eighteen wheeler,” Richie said brightly, running a hand through the black hurricane of his hair. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” Eddie leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss into Richie’s mouth. “Want all of your pills?”

“Yes please,” Richie tried to follow Eddie’s lips and pouted when Eddie went beyond his reach. 

“Your parents are still out of town?”

“You betcha.” 

“’Kay. Be right back.” Eddie made a quick stop at Richie’s dresser and yanked out a threadbare Depeche Mode shirt. He pulled it over his head before heading out of Richie’s room. He stepped softly down the stairs and almost made it to the kitchen before a shuffling in the living room made him whirl around, wild eyed.

“M-morning,” Bill said from the couch. There was a shit-eating grin plastered across his features and Eddie felt his face go from normal to red in less than ten seconds. 

“Morning,” he parroted. He was suddenly _painfully_ aware of the fact that he only wore a t-shirt and his underwear out of Richie’s room. 

“So,” Bill said. He sat up and stretched languidly. “How did you sleep?”

“Great,” Eddie said over his shoulder, tripping into the kitchen. “Just came to get Richie his pills, you know, he, uh, needs them.”

“Mmhm.” 

Eddie almost fell three separate times while trying to get the right dosages of pills into his hands. He grabbed a glass of water and stiffened his chin, walking out. “We’ll probably be down soon,” he said. 

“Take your time,” Bill smiled. “Hey, though, qu-quick question.”

“What?”

“So, does Richie really deliver on all of the promises that he’s been making since we were twelve?” Eddie gaped, lost for words, and then turned and fled. Bill’s good-natured laugh followed him all the way up to Richie’s room. 

“What?” Richie was grinning when Eddie walked back in. “What’s so funny down there?”

Eddie shook his head vehemently. He shoved the pills and the water at Richie. 

“What?” Richie insisted again, laughing. He took his medicine and tossed it back with a swig of water, grimacing through swallowing four pills at once. “The antibiotics are in there too?”

“Later,” Eddie reminded him. “On a full stomach.”

Richie drained the rest of his water and patted the bed beside him. “What’s got you all shook up, babe?”

Eddie sat down. “Bill _heard_ us,” he said, mortified. 

“Wait, what?”

“He heard us!” Eddie hissed. He buried his face behind his hands and peeked through the gaps in his fingers. “Yesterday. In the _shower_.” 

Richie blinked, and his face split into the widest, most mischievous grin that Eddie had ever seen. “Oh?” He set his empty glass on the floor and pulled Eddie in. Eddie groaned, his hands still fixed firmly over his face. “Come on Eds, let’s give him an encore.” 

“Fuck _off_ ,” Eddie glared from in between his fingers. 

“Oh my God, so cute!”

“Fuck the FUCK off, Richie.” Eddie wiggled, trying to extricate himself from his boyfriend’s grip. “You know, I was a virgin before you. I was _respectable_.”

“I know,” Richie said, resplendent. “And now, I give it to you good and proper. You’re welcome.”

“You’re sullying my good name!”

“I’ve never been more proud.”

“Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Hey, listen,” Richie rubbed circles into Eddie’s back. “It’s not that bad. If I had a nickel for every time I heard Bill beating his meat--“

“Jesus Christ!”

“--I’d have retired to the South of France by now,” Richie finished, still grinning. “Come on, baby. You’re amongst friends.” Eddie sighed, dropping his hands and staring belligerently at Richie. “If they could see you for a second how I see you,” Richie said. His voice had dropped low. “They’d see that tight fucking body and that sweet face, and they’d be lining up to eat you out in the shower every night.”

“Don’t,” Eddie mumbled.

“You have no idea how bad I want you, all the time,” Richie said, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “I always want my hands on you, my mouth on you, fuck, Eds, I’m always thinking about you. So let ‘em listen. I don’t care,” Richie pulled back, and there was a sharp, open honesty to his face. “I’m getting what I’ve always wanted.”

“Richie,” Eddie whispered. 

“You can take that how I mean it, or you can pretend I’m too stoned on painkillers to string a coherent sentence together,” Richie said softly. “Whatever you want.” The moment carried between them, their eyes locked. Richie picked up both of Eddie’s hands in his own and squeezed them tenderly. “Last night, what we did…I don’t regret it. I wouldn’t change it. And I certainly wouldn’t be quiet about it.”

 _I love you_. The thought raced through Eddie’s mind, buzzing through every synapse and nerve. He brought his hands up to cup Richie’s face and Richie smiled and turned, kissing the thin, old scar across Eddie’s palm. _An oath. Even if it’s one that Richie doesn’t remember…an oath._

“Give me a list of colleges,” Eddie said thickly. 

Richie blinked. “That’s, uh…not even in the top three responses that I predicted,”  
He murmured against Eddie’s hand.

“Every college you applied to. Give me a list, in order of your favorites,” Eddie looked up at Richie, earnest and real. “I’m going to apply to every single one.”

“Eds--“

“I’m coming with you,” Eddie said. “I meant it yesterday, and I mean it more now.” Richie just looked at Eddie, his lips parted. “You’ve never been speechless,” Eddie said. He traced his thumb over Richie’s bottom lip. “It’s a terrible look on you.” 

Richie closed his eyes and kissed the pad of Eddie’s thumb. “I’m having a very emotional moment,” he said. He cupped Eddie’s chin and kissed him. “Seattle,” he whispered. “I’m feeling Seattle. I got accepted to Cali and that’s great, but…”

“Seattle,” Eddie agreed. “I’m with you.”

* * *

When they did finally make it down the stairs, Eddie in front and Richie with both of his hands on the shorter man’s shoulders, Bill greeted them with open arms and a huge smile. “Young lovers,” he said. “Welcome.”

“Billiam!” Richie exclaimed. “Have you met my beautiful young flower, Eddie Kaspbrak? His likes include poetry, his inhaler, long walks on the beach, and my long fucking dick.” 

“Richie, I will fucking castrate you,” Eddie seethed. 

“Nice to meet you, Mister K-Kaspbrak,” Bill smirked and Eddie scowled at him. “I’d like to s-say I’m surprised, but I’m afraid I heard you c-coming.”

Richie howled with laughter, leaning on the wall beside him for support. Eddie glared between them. 

“I am _betrayed_ ,” Eddie whispered, storming off into the kitchen. 

“Sweet Bill,” Richie cooed. He slowly navigated his way to the couch, sitting next to Bill. “My very favorite Bill.”

“I’m e-everybody’s favorite Bill,” Bill preened. 

“Feeling better?” Bill and Richie turned towards the new voice and saw El at the base of the stairs. Her hair was pulled back and she looked clean and shining. “Richie?”

“Well hey, gorgeous,” Richie smiled back at her. “I feel like a million bucks, you know, my lungs are working. My heart’s still beating. My brain, you know, functioning.”

“That’s debatable!” They heard Mike shout from upstairs, and El laughed. 

“So yes, thanks to you, feeling ten out of ten. Would definitely recommend this experience to a friend.”

A delighted flush spread across El’s cheeks. She walked over to them and kissed Richie’s cheek. “No fever,” she said. “Breakfast?” 

“Did you just want an excuse to kiss me?” Richie asked slyly. “Because I’m a taken man.”

Eddie sighed heavily from the kitchen. 

El wrinkled her nose and backed up. “Mouth breather,” she said, walking into the kitchen by herself. 

“That is so rude,” Richie gasped, scandalized. “I’m only breathing through my mouth because my nose is broken.”

“Hey, Rich,” Bill said. Richie slid his arm around Bill’s neck and kissed the side of his head. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Big Bill,” Richie mumbled into his friend’s hair. Eddie stopped in the door way to the kitchen with a cup of coffee in each hand. Richie’s smile, visible just past the edge of Bill’s face, warmed him all over. 

“Y-you’re gonna be good for each other.”

“We’re perfect for each other,” Richie swooned. “I’ve been telling you about this for years, man, and finally, I’ve--“

“Beep, beep,” Bill shushed his friend, “I kn-know, Rich.”

“I thought I was dreaming yesterday when he let me hold his hand in the diner, in front of everybody,” Richie sighed. He leaned back against the couch. “I knew we had to start telling you guys eventually, I was really struggling with the secret, y’know? Especially right after the first time, we just couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.” Richie wiggled his brows. 

“You can’t ever keep your hands to yourself,” Bill laughed. “W-with anybody.”

Eddie watched them, his stomach suddenly leaden, and felt like he had to warn them. _It isn’t dead,_ the thought rose unbidden to Eddie’s mind and bubbled in his throat like a terrified scream. _We thought we killed It five years ago, we didn’t, and I’m the only one who remembers._ Eddie swallowed his fear, tamped it down deep into his mind, and cleared his throat. Richie and Bill turned to look at him in guilty unison.

“Coffee?” Eddie offered, holding out both mugs.

“Yes, p-please,” Bill said. “You’re the best. You know, if things ever go south between you and Richie--“

“William Denbrough, the sheer _nerve_.” Richie accepted the second mug, brushing his fingers over Eddie’s in the pass off. “Thanks, Eds.” 

“You’re welcome. There’s more coffee in the pot!” Eddie shouted, for Mike’s benefit. 

“Thanks!” Mike said, jogging down the stairs. “Do you need a cup?”

“No,” Eddie said, “I don’t drink coffee.”

“It stunts your growth,” Richie said sagely over the rim of his mug. “So I’ve heard. Eddie can’t afford that.”

Eddie scowled at him. “Get your own pills next round.”

“Eddie!” 

“Keep running your trashmouth, and I’ll show you that I’m big in every way that matters, Richard.”

El came into the living room with a frozen eggo in her hand. She ate it casually, like she wasn’t just chewing waffle-flavored ice. Bill scooted over to make room, and she sat beside him on the couch, munching away. Eddie kissed Richie’s forehead in spite of himself and sits on the floor cross-legged, resting his head on Richie’s knee. Richie ran his fingers through the shorter man’s hair and Eddie sighed. 

Bill looked at El, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. “Thank you for s-saving us.” She looked at him, shocked. Richie’s fingers continued their casual exploration of Eddie’s scalp. “I can’t remember if we said it.”

El smiled lightly at Bill. She wrung the edge of her waffle between fingers. “It’s okay,” she whispered. 

“We’ll always owe you,” Eddie said. “For everything.”

“No,” El said.

“Yes,” Eddie said, firmly.

Mike was standing between the kitchen and the living room where Eddie had been only minutes ago. He looked wan. “I hate to be the guy to immediately call in a favor, then,” Mike said, holding his steaming mug with both hands. “But, El…her powers,” he hesitated. “Please. Please don’t tell anybody. Don’t even tell anybody that she was here.”

“We wouldn’t,” Eddie said. 

“We promise,” Richie said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “Even if they question us separately.” Bill chuffed out a soft laugh and Mike relaxed instantly, relieved. 

“Cool,” Mike nodded. “Rich, your coffee tastes like ass.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, because it doesn’t taste nearly as good as Eddie,” Richie said smoothly, taking a sip of his brew. 

“Oh my GOD,” Eddie slumped forward and buried his face in his hands. “ _RICHIE_.”

“Besides, Bill made this pot.”

“Hear, hear,” Bill said, toasting Richie with his mug. 

Eddie glared up at Richie, the harshness of his gaze softening as he watched Richie chat with Bill. _Seattle_ , he thought, and it felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the end of part two!! Thank you all so much for your sweet support. See you all back soon with part three!
> 
> xoxoxo  
> waxagent


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